A Shield Unto Others

An Autobiography by Garret Daniels

I dedicate this culmination of my lifes events to those who helped me through the darkest of times; To
those who never left my side.
To my mother, Allison Daniels, for teaching me that I am not defined by others views of me.
To my father, Gary Daniels, for teaching me that life is built by the choices we make.
To my sister, Claire Daniels, for teaching me that love comes in many forms including the bond
between an impatient, irate teenage boy and his doe-eyed baby sister.
To Colleen Wunderlich, who took me under her wing as my (constantly abusive) mother in drama.
To my two older brothers, Benjamin Lochiavo and Eric Christman, for teaching me that its never too late
to change your stars and showing me that one doesnt have to be flesh and blood to be family.
To my elder sister, Danielle Cendejas, for consistently drumming life lessons into my head, the most
important of which being this: To simply enjoy life, come what may.
And finally, to Sara Tawfik, for teaching me that love never fades; it simply finds new ways to exist.

I dont know where Id be if it werent for each and every one of you in my life. You have changed me
for the better, held my hand through the darkness, and reveled with me in the light. I love each and every
one of you with all my heart, and I truly feel that I always will.
No matter what life has in store, I know Ill be able to face it with you at my side.
Truly, and sincerely Thank you.





























Chapter 1 The Early Years
As I strode in through the towering doors of Mrs. Klemensics Kindergarten Classroom, I felt my
breath catch in my throat, my heart pounding in my chest. This was it. The first step. The beginning of
the daily routine that would dominate my life for the next thirteen years: School. Perhaps it was anxiety
that halted my steps perhaps I was afraid of what was to come? Well, one way or another, it was time
to show the world what I had to offer, and I quickly came to realize that this would happen whether I
accepted it or not. Keeping these truths in mind, I embraced the challenge presented to me, finding my
seat among my fellow children.
In Kindergarten, being different isnt considered a crime it is considered a privilege (A mindset
I deeply wish would carry over throughout the rest of life). So when my teacher discovered that Id
already taught myself to read by age four, I had the distinct honor of being transferred to a 1
st
Grade
Language Arts class. Imagine the pride, the joy, the exhilaration swelling up within me as I took my first
steps into the classroom of my elders. I was no longer in the presence of mere children I was standing
at the feet of gods (And, quite often, outclassing them). Such was my viewpoint throughout the vast
majority of my first year of school: Being special was good.
Step forward one year. First Grade. By now, I had already read through my first Harry Potter
book, and was eagerly starting the second. Reading had ceased being a chore and had started to
become the greatest of activities. My neighbor, Evan Espanto, had introduced me to my first taste of
video games with the iconic Super Mario 64, hooking me onto the franchise for life. Life seemed good.
Life seemed fun. How could I possibly know that this was all about to change?
As I progressed through Elementary School, a fact quickly became evident to my parents: I had
inherited my mothers Attention Deficit Disorder, and this was making school rather difficult for me. So,
by the start of the Second Grade, they decided to put me on a pill that would increase my attention span
and keep my focused on school. None of us could ever have expected what would come next.
It started one foggy morning during recess, about two months into the year. It had rained the
night before, so the grass was engulfed by a thick soup of mud, which most of us tried to avoid. When
the bell finally rang for us to head back to class, my classmates turned to leave But I stopped. Why go
back to class, I thought, when I can stay out here? Class isnt fun. The playground is. So why go? Because
the bell told me to?
When I expressed this to my friends, they urged me to simply follow the rules and come with
them. They told me to stop complaining about having to return to class and fall in line. At this, I flared,
enraged by their unwillingness to listen to or even consider my idea. Infuriated, I strode out to the
center of the mud puddle, took hold of a mud-soaked soccer ball And hurled it with all my might at the
first of my friends. Their reaction was immediate and, in my rage-clouded mind, ever so satisfying. As
the other children scattered and scurried back to their teachers, I continued to lob the ball at them as
hard as I could, striking many random students in my blind fury. When there were simply no students
left, I collapsed into the muddy pond, angrily shrieking to the heavens as I rolled around in the filth.
Before long, Mr. Wilson (our Principal at the time) himself was running to my side, attempting to calm
my rage with gentle, comforting words. He had no idea at the time that this would be the first of
countless incidents to occur over the next few years, or that the two of us would be bound in a near-
constant struggle against my imposing rage together.
Horrified by this and many other incidents throughout the first half of my Second Grade year,
my parents soon put two and two together, deciding to remove me from the pills completely a
grievous mistake. Because my young immune system and metabolism had become accustomed to the
constant intake of medicine, the sudden removal of this stimulant sent me reeling into an even worse
rage, in which I began to isolate myself even more. After every incident, I would hold my parents and
weep, mortified by the things Id done. I would later describe the occurrences as Watching my own
actions from the outside, incapable of altering my course or subduing my rage.
Thus began the most terrifying period of my life.

Chapter 2 A Nightmare Resolved
If the first years of my curse were torment, then the third was my own personal Hell. Upon the
realization of their errors, my parents made the decision to put me back on a replacement of the original
pill, then add a few more pills to stabilize my system. The result was a complete drain in my energy,
causing me to fall asleep in class nearly every day. Seeing no further options left for them, they added
one last pill to keep me awake and energetic and it was the final piece to the puzzle of Armageddon.
Hurling chairs at my teachers. Stabbing my principal in the arm with pens. Chasing my friends
around the schoolyard with raised fists, attempting to beat within an inch of their life for slighting me.
Leaping over the fence to run away from school. These incidents are simply the tip of the iceberg. Under
the influence of this last drug, I put up the worst of walls between myself and the other students walls
that, when I wasnt in a fit of rage, left me feeling isolated and alone. The few friends that I did have
were simply pretending to enjoy my company, but were secretly waiting for me to snap again so theyd
have front row seats to the show. It was all a game to them, and at times, theyd even do things in an
attempt to draw out my rage egging me on with insults or taunting.
When my parents finally made the decision to taper me off of the drugs, I expected the rage to
subside, the nightmare to end. And while I was certainly cured of my uncontrollable tendencies, I would
soon learn that the horrors my actions had wrought had only just begun.
Isolated, friendless, and incapable of convincing others to let me into their lives, I went through
the next two years of my life, miserable in every conceivable way. While my rage had indeed faded, it
did not stop others from trying to provoke me through taunting and bullying A fact that pushed me
further into my misery. My so-called friends abandoned me the moment I stopped putting on a show
for them, and by this point, there was little I could do to stop them.
It wasnt until one fateful day in 5
th
Grade that my life began to take a turn for the better.
Cameron Batsford, an autistic student in a situation much like my own, was a sorry tale. Being as young
as we were, there were very few students who understood his condition and of them, not a one
seemed to care. One day, as I was walking about the playground, I happened upon a small group of boys
talking to Cameron, asking him silly questions and cracking up at his answers. Their reactions seemed to
puzzle Cameron, who couldnt piece together the idea that these boys were making fun of him to his
face he simply was not socially aware enough to conceive of the idea.
When I looked at Cameron in this moment, I felt a deep revelation within my heart. As strange
and different as he was, we were actually very similar, this autistic boy and I. We were both outcasts,
shunned from society for events that were outside of our control, and we both struggled to fit in only
to miserably fail. And in this moment, in this one moment, I decided that it was time for someone to do
something about it.
Without hesitation or thought of my own wellbeing, I strode into the midst of the group of my
peers, shoving the leader of the pack away from their prey. A hard look in my eye and a fierce tone in
my voice, I ordered him to back away from Cameron, to find his entertainment elsewhere. After a brief
face-off that nearly ended in a fight, the group walked away, leaving me with my self-appointed charge.
From that moment on, I took Cameron under my wing, determined to protect him from those who
would mistreat and misunderstand him. This purpose drove me to try and be a better person in all
aspects of my life, and after some time, I found that I was starting to push away from my horrible past,
into a bright and promising future.

Chapter 3 A Day at the Theater
My family has always been particularly fond of the arts. My father being a passionate self-
taught guitarist and singer instilled a deep love for music within my soul, and both of my parents made
it a major priority to introduce me to classic culture. During my early childhood, I attended a great
number of live stage performances (my favorite of them being Broadways hit classic, The Lion King),
giving me a much broader view of the acting world than most children my age received. Early in my life, I
was utterly enthralled by these performances, though their importance began to fade in my life as I
grew older. As fate would have it, however, the connections my parents made as a result of these
passions would wind up launching me down a path I never could have imagined Id take.
I remember the day well. It was a warm, mid-spring morning in my sixth-grade year a
Saturday, which meant that I was sprawled out on the couch, watching television. School this week had
been dull as usual, though it was nothing to complain about. I had no long-term homework due, so that
was fortunate. It was in the midst of these wandering thoughts that I was startled by a fervent knock at
the door, which my mother quickly answered. At the door was her closest friend (and fellow teacher)
Mrs. Donovan, who quickly explained that she was having her six-year-old son audition for Peter Pan at
the Chino Community Theater. Seeing as her son, Kellen, and my seven-year-old sister, Claire, were
practically inseparable at the time, why not have them audition together? My mother leapt at the idea,
and quickly went to fetch my sister. Finally, when they were heading out the door, Mrs. Donovan added
as an afterthought that perhaps my mother should bring me along as well? They were looking for boys,
after all. I couldnt have known it then, but this simple afterthought this one suggestion immediately
sent my life hurdling in a whole new direction.
After quite a bit of persuading, I finally consented to audition for this play, seeing no real reason
not to. Imagine my surprise, in the end, when neither Claire nor Kellen were accepted into the cast But
I was. Performing in Peter Pan as a Lost Boy was quite possibly the biggest turnaround my life had taken
at that point. Once I first stepped out onto that stage, I immediately knew without a shred of doubt in
my mind that I wanted more I wanted to continue acting.
So, as I progressed through the 7
th
Grade, I began to audition for more plays at the Chino
Community Theater. I was accepted into The Pied Piper as Rattytatty, Hamlin Towns inept rat-
catcher, and quickly found an incredibly accepting community in the acting world. Here, for the first
time in my life, I could leave behind my past and be whoever I wanted to be! Here, I had friends. I had
people who enjoyed my presence. I had people who loved me for me.
The same could not be said for school. While 7
th
Grade did provide a chance to wipe my slate
clean (for the most part), the few friends I managed to make were distant, at best. It was difficult for me
to truly connect with many people (though there were three or four friends that I managed to make).
My grades were average, for the most part, remaining within the 3.0 3.5 range. Classes were dull and
unengaging, particularly English, Math, and History, classes which seemed to be more of chores than
anything else. The only classes I truly enjoyed were Science and Physical Education, and even these were
only as a direct result of the friends I had in class. I found that, for once, I missed Elementary School,
often longing for the cheery, fun-loving teachers and creative projects. It certainly did not help my case
when, mid-year, the production of The Pied Piper finally ended.
The rest of the year dragged on without much incident, ending with my auditions for one last
play over the summer Honk! Jr., the tale of the ugly duckling. This, however, did not go on stage
until long after my year had ended, so it was not a particularly big help in that regard.

Chapter 4 Out of the Frying Pan
It is often said by those who have served their time in Middle School that it is easily the worst
two or three years of their lives. And while the title of Worst years of my life still firmly applies only to
Elementary School for me, 8
th
Grade was Well, not an improvement.
As one might imagine, Middle School is the time of head-clashing drama. Hordes of teens
beginning to come into adolescence with little-to-no examples of maturity results in more unnecessary
conflicts than one cares to recall, tearing apart and resolving friendships left and right with hardly any
restraint. It was in the midst of this clamor that I quickly found myself on the outskirts of my group of
friends, widely regarded as the groups laughingstock. Before long, it felt like Elementary School all over
again. My friends consistently and constantly insulting me, laughing at my expense, and making me feel
as if I deserved it. Somehow, I had managed to sink myself into this situation all over again.
This time, however, I had an escape route: Theater. The more my friends ostracized me from
their group at school, the more I sought shelter in the Theater Community. This arrangement worked
well for me, indeed until, of course, my plays ended, leaving me right back at square one with nothing
to help absorb my pain.
My teachers this year were some help, seeing as I actually enjoyed their classes for a change. My
favorite of these teachers was Mr. Booth, who played an instrumental part in boosting my self-
confidence. Of all my teachers, he was the one who really made me feel as if I could accomplish
something with my life, who really seemed to believe in me. At the time, that was something I really
needed.

Chapter 5 Pricked by a Roses Thorns
High School the start of ones life. They say that the first steps into the hallowed halls of High
School determine ones fate for the next four years of their life. When I first stepped into Ayala, I did so
with my head held high, eagerly awaiting a new year. Once again, it was time for a new start. I was
leaving Junior High as well as the nightmares accompanying it behind me, and starting my life anew
with an outlook that was all new. I had joined Cross Country, I had my first real girlfriend (whom I had
met at a camp over the summer), and nothing was going to get me down. Or so I thought.
As the months passed, however, it became increasingly evident that all was not as it seemed.
My group of friends was not quite as fond of me as I would have hoped, and in the end, I found that
solitude was my best option. My classes were difficult as a result of my lackluster teachers (as well as my
own lack of effort), leaving my grades deep in the darkest of pits. My relationship with my parents was
strained, at best, and there was a conflict between us nearly every night particularly in regards to my
girlfriend. In fact, at the end of each day, she was the only person I truly felt comfortable trusting. Yet
even with her, I could not find true happiness. Her family was constantly plagued by violent conflict, her
father a crazed madman out for custody of the children, her mother a depressed, down-on-her-luck
harpy, desperate for money. I was constantly my girlfriends only comfort in this hellish world of hers a
fact that brought me great pride and joy. What I was blind to, however, was the way she treated me in
return.
Hannah was not in any way a good girlfriend. She was consistently flirting with other boys at her
school, drawing their attention, and later telling me about them only to be offended when I suggest
she let them know that they were making her uncomfortable. At one point, she quite literally stated that
if one particular boy (whod been eying her for months) asked her to a dance, she would say yes because
she didnt want to embarrass him and threatened to break up with me for disagreeing with her
decision.
In addition to this, Hannah was not mentally well. This was not something she could control, of
course, but she suffered from severe depression and a minor case of schizophrenia. On many occasions,
she would threaten to kill herself because of some problem or another in her life, only for me to
threaten to do the same in response. These battles of ours would go on for hours, each of us
threatening that wed mimic the others actions should they perform them. I usually got off the phone
with her after fights like this at two oclock in the morning, leaving myself both physically and
emotionally exhausted for the following day.
These problems simply added to my own everyday problems, and were the root of most
arguments with my parents. If they ever tried to point out that perhaps Hannah wasnt good for me, I
would immediately shout them down, infuriated that they even suggest that my Soulmate shouldnt
be a part of my life. Eventually, it escalated to the point of us needing family counseling, as well as
therapy for my own developing case of depression.
These issues finally reached their peak the following summer, when Hannah left for the same
summer camp where we had met. I hadnt been permitted to go, due to my grades, leaving me in utter
agony for three weeks. When she finally returned, I greeted her with a broad, happy grin and open
arms While she greeted me with a somber expression. After some coaxing, she finally confessed her
dark secret: She had cheated on me over those three weeks.
The news was like an ice-cold dagger sinking through my heart. I had been everything for this
girl Id held her hand during the worst of times, been her sole confidant when she had no one else to
turn to, and gotten her through the single worst period of her life, only for her to betray me in the worst
of ways. I had been the most loving and devoted boyfriend I could for over a year, promised her the
world, and sworn on our future together Only for her to cheat on me the day after our anniversary. It
was in this moment that I finally knew true heartbreak; that I finally understood what emotional pain
could be.
In spite of this, I forgave Hannah, promising that I would stay by her side and love her despite
her mistake but the witch would not let me rest that easily. Over the next month, she began to
torment me with a regular back and forth routine, occurring several times a day. At first, she promised
me that she had no feelings for the boy shed cheated on me with Then, shed go back, saying that she
may have felt something after all. Soon enough, shed be telling me that she may have actually loved
him though never as much as she loved me, of course. The next day, shed tell me that she may have
actually loved him more than she loved me, and that his lack of contact with her was beginning to worry
her. At one point, she told me that a song shed once sworn reminded her of me now only made her
think of him, and that she missed him so. I spent most of these days curled up in my bed for hours,
clutching my chest in absolute misery.
So ended my Freshman Year of High School.

Chapter 6 The Light at the End of the Tunnel
The start of my Sophomore Year picked up exactly where my Freshman Year left off with me
miserably curled up in bed half the time, hating my life. By this point, I had started contemplating killing
myself, and my parents were running out of ideas on how to keep me from delving headfirst into full-
blown depression. The pain was deep, my heart was throbbing, and I hardly had the energy to care
about even the most trivial of things.
Then, finally, it hit me my epiphany. I was taking a shower one day, getting ready to go to the
local community theater to work backstage for a show, when I felt myself step into the light. It was her.
My girlfriend, Hannah, was the root of my misery. As a direct result of her manipulative tendencies, I
had given up every single friend I once held dear, trashed my relationship with my parents, and nearly
given up on acting. As a direct result of her promiscuity, I lived each day with a dull ache in my chest. As
a direct result of her attitude towards her problems in life, I felt responsible in caring for her. Every
problem in my life stemmed directly from Hannah.
I wasted no time. That day, I called her, kindly and gently explaining that we needed some space
from one another for a time. After listening to her begging and pleading for some while, I eventually cut
in, firmly stating that this was my final decision on the matter. After I hung up that day, I had my parents
block her number, and never once looked back. Finally, I felt myself beginning to breathe again. Finally, I
felt capable of living my life again. Finally, I felt like myself again.
The damage she had inflicted, however, would not be so easy to repair. My friends, naturally,
wanted nothing to do with me. I had completely shunned them for a girl theyd never even met; why
would they invite me back? My parents were obviously more accepting, but I found that I had dug
myself into a pit in most other aspects of my life. And from the looks of things, it wasnt going to be easy
to dig myself out. I began to lose hope, began to sink back into myself.
And thats when I met him; the man who changed my life. His name was Benjamin Loschiavo. I
met Ben one day when I decided to return to the Drama Room for lunch. I had taken Intro to Theater in
my Freshman Year, but due to Hannahs discouragement, Id decided against going out for any theater
classes my Sophomore Year. It was a mistake I hadnt thought much of, at the time, but I immediately
regretted it once I found my bearings once again. So one day, I decided to visit, see what it was like
there. Little did I know that the decision would forever change my life.
At the time, Ben was a Senior in the Advanced Theater class, and we hit it off the moment we
started talking. He introduced me to a good few drama kids, and soon enough, I was hooked; I wanted
in. At the semester break, I auditioned for the Advanced Class, and in Second Semester, I stepped into
the drama room with new eyes. I quickly fell back in love with acting, made a dozen new and amazing
friends, and established a brotherly bond with Ben. These people became my family, and finally, for the
first time in my life, I felt like I belonged somewhere. I felt like I was home. Ben was the older brother I
never had; his girlfriend, Colleen, quite maternally took me under her wing and became a bit of a
Drama Mama to me; a girl by the name of Danielle Cendejas quickly became the closest thing I had to
an older sister; and a girl Id just met (Sara Tawfik) became my closest friend and confidant. These
people taught me to believe in myself to follow my dreams with wholehearted passion, and to look at
life with an eternally optimistic view.
In the end, these four people changed me in unbelievable ways, reaching down to pull me out of
the worst of my life. I love them with all of my heart, and I take solace in knowing that no matter
where they are, no matter what theyre doing they love me in return.

Chapter 7 A New Spark
Following the greatest year of my life, my hopes were high for Junior Year. True, nearly all of the
friends Id met in drama the previous year had graduated but what did that matter? I was finally
enjoying life again. If thats not enough of a set up to a good year, I dont know what is.
The year started off with quite a bang. I landed a good-sized role in the first play of the year, my
grades were good, Sara and I were becoming amazingly close, fast I cannot deny that things were
going really well. Sure, I missed Ben, Danny, and Colleen, but its not as if I never saw the three. We got
together as often as we could, which was fairly often.
By this point, I had completely dropped the idea of romance. I wanted to be a film actor, for
gods sake. How many film actors do you meet who actually have good, steady relationships going? I
didnt want to get married, and I didnt want to have kids. To get married would mean to put a wife
through the suffering of being with an actor (inconsistent hours, having to watch me kiss other women,
etc.), and to have children would mean to force them to forever live in my shadow. I wanted none of it.
At least Thats what I convinced myself. It wasnt until Sara admitted her feelings for me that I
realized the truth: These were walls, each and every one of them. Walls I was using to try and protect
my recently-repaired heart. I was terrified of relationships, terrified of heartbreak. Deep down, though
Could I deny that I felt the same way? Could I truly say that I didnt feel something for her, too?
In the end, I decided to take a leap of faith. Where would it lead? Would it last? Would we fall in
love? These questions, ever-plaguing my mind before my decision, seemed to melt away as I gave into
my feelings for Sara.
My relationship with Sara came to define my Junior Year. Yes, we did last throughout the year,
and further. I immediately promised myself that this relationship would be different than mine with
Hannah, and it was. I was actually, legitimately happy every single day. Simply looking into her eyes
brought the warmest of smiles to my face, and our love for one another spurred us on to be better
people for one another. We helped each other through rough patches, and remained the closest of
friends throughout the relationship. Sure, there were setbacks her religion, her unsupportive parents,
my constant business with acting but we worked past them. It was a strong, loving, and mature
relationship that brought lightness and joy to my entire year.
Acting also became an enormous part of my life during my Junior Year. In this one year alone, I
was cast in three separate plays, only one of them being at Ayala. I improved on my skills, worked
professionally, and enlisted the aid and support of many influential people to my cause. And best of all, I
maintained a steady GPA throughout the year, in spite of the numerous distractions.
New friends came into my life, as well as the old. Eric Christman, a good friend of Bens, became
a new part of my family, and the three of us formed a strong brotherly bond together. Conveniently, he
was also dating Danny, so the two became fast friends with me and Sara. We were each others go-to
double date partners, and we absolutely loved swapping couples war stories over dinner.
If Sophomore year was the set-up, Junior Year was definitely the reward. I enjoyed my time as a
Junior immensely, and cherish many moments eternally within my heart. I truly believe that I always
will.
I only wish that the lightness of my Junior Year could have lasted.

Chapter 8 Dark and Light: The Eternal Struggle
Let me level with you for a moment. School is hard. Its no cakewalk. Working through six classes
a day at an hour per class only to receive an entirely new workload to take and do at home is not
easy. That is a given. Now that thats been established, know that when I say this next bit, Im not talking
about school in the least:
Senior Year has been hard.
Why is this? Perhaps its the fact that, since the beginning of the year, Ive been cast in 9 yes, 9
separate shows (and Ive directed one). Perhaps its the fact that, as a Drama Senior, my actions are
constantly looked at as leadership for the younger classmen, forcing me to set an example even when
Id rather not. Perhaps its the fact that, at the start of the year, Sara graduated to college, leaving little
time for our relationship especially with my skyrocketing involvement in theater. Perhaps its the fact
that, midyear, my two older brothers shipped out to the military for basic training, leaving me with a
broken and heart-wrenched family.
Senior year has been a continuous learning experience for me. Ive learned to cope with juggling
numerous stressful factors at once, to deal with separation and loss, and to deal with the stresses of real
life. This year, school has taken a bit of a backseat to the number of other issues Ive dealt with, leaving
me constantly behind and struggling to catch up. My home life has been growing increasingly stressful
as well, as my struggle for personal independence clashes with my parents preset safeguards. At times,
there have been moments where its seemed like its all too much, and the stress has taken its toll. My
relationship with Sara slowly began to dissolve throughout the year, for instance, to the point where I
felt that there was little left to do but end it to prevent us from loathing one another. Thankfully, she is
still a good friend of mine though getting back to that point took some time and effort. I have grown
increasingly isolated in drama, especially since the breakup (she had a number of friends in the program
who know how to hold a grudge). Really, the only few friends Ive still had have been either busy beyond
belief (Such as my sister, Danny), going through horrible things at home (such as Sara), or are simply
no longer around (Such as my brothers, Ben and Eric).
Senior Year has been hard. Its forced me face the seemingly endless darkness in the world, and
its stressed the importance of staying true to myself throughout hardship a daunting task, at best.
Ive been forced to grow up faster than I would have liked, due to a number of issues that are
not mine to repeat. In my heart, I can feel that I am no longer the nave, wide-eyed boy that I was just a
year ago. I can simply no longer afford to be that boy. Ive been tossed about by life, to the point where
Ive had to wonder if there really was any light at all in this world or if it existed only in the eyes of an
overly optimistic child, too wonderstruck for his own good.
And thats when I see it the beauty of love. Not the nave, storybook love that every child
dreams of, but real, true love. The love felt by a mother and father for their son. The love felt by a young
girl for her adored older brother. The love felt by a lost, time-worn teenage boy for those closest to him:
An elder sister, struggling to hold her head high for those who count on her; two elder brothers, fighting
leagues away to defend the freedom they so desperately cherish; a girl struggling to find her place in the
world.
Senior Year has been hard. Ive learned more lessons than I care to remember some by my
own time, some that life has shoved down my throat, and others still that others have demanded I learn.
For the longest time, I felt like these hardships were mine to bear, and mine alone. I protect others, after
all I dont allow them to throw themselves into the fray for my sake. I hold it in. I tough through the
pain, piling the stress of others onto my own shoulders even as I go and Ive felt that stress, now more
than ever. Its been drowning me this entire year, making me forget who I am, and what Ive been
fighting for all this time. Finally, when I had gone so far over the edge of what I could take that I felt as if
I would fall, I felt it I felt the hands of all of my loved ones catching me, pulling me away from that
edge and into their arms.
Senior Year has been a learning experience for me, the whole way through, but perhaps the
greatest lesson Ive learned yet is this: The world is a beautiful, wonderful thing so long as you let
yourself see it. Looking back, I have it so much better than I ever thought I would. I could never have
imagined as a child that I would have so much as one good, decent friend when I grew up so how
could I have seen what would come to be? Ive spent so many years struggling, so much time fighting,
that I forgot to look back and see what Ive been fighting for. In the time that Ive spent, Ive weaved a
glittering web of memories and experiences, centered around those individuals who bring light to my
life just by existing.
As a child, even in my hardest moments, I looked at life as an eternal light a beautiful,
harmonious existence with the universe that simply has to be acknowledged to be enjoyed. As Ive
grown older and wiser, Ive begun looking at life with an almost polar-opposite view: as a heart-
wrenching darkness that swallows the weak, and must be fought through to survive. It wasnt until a
wonderful friend of mine pointed it out that I realized that neither viewpoint was right, nor was either
wrong. Life isnt simply one or the other; it is the balance between light and darkness, joy and sorrow.
Light cannot exist without darkness, and darkness cannot go on existing without light. How does one
truly learn to enjoy the wonders of life if they have not first felt the sting of its sorrow?
Every cloud in a persons life will one day pass. Some clouds take longer to float past than
others, but in the end, they teach a person how to survive away from the sun. When I was in elementary
school, my cloud was the pain that my medication-fueled rage brought me, and it lasted for nearly six
years. While I was under that cloud, I felt pain the likes of which I would not wish unto any living soul. I
felt the sting of isolation, the dull ache of knowing just how few people I had left in my life. It was
difficult, especially as a child, to go that long with little more than a fleeting glimpse of the sun but it
made it all the better when I finally broke free of the storm. These days, I look back at the number of
unfortunate events in my life the loneliness I experienced in Elementary School, the bullying and
teasing I was subjected to in Junior High School, and the heartbreak I experienced in my Freshman Year
and I am grateful. These clouds in my life gave me moments of darkness that forever taught me how
to fight for the light and, more importantly than anything else, they taught me the impact one
persons love and caring can have during these times. And if theres anything that the people in my life
have taught me, its to never turn my back when I can extend a hand in aid of another.



My name is Garret Bradley Eaton Daniels, and this is my story.